


Lunga vita al nostro viaggio

by Akira14



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-02-25 22:57:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 11,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18711379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akira14/pseuds/Akira14
Summary: I know that I said the previous collection of drabbles/ficlets would probably be my last, but then COWT9 came along and I was asked to write some more... So here they are:Capitolo 1: Matching helix piercings (ITA)Chapter 2: Matching helix piercings (ENG)Chapter 3: Nico & Ele cooking for Marti and FiloCapitolo 4: Sequel del capitolo 1Capitolo 5: Spaccato sull'amicizia Elia&EvaChapter 6: Boys&Girls reacting to ElippoChapter 7: Ele's car accident (Incantava)Capitolo 8: I pensieri di Marti & Nico durante il loro primo baciioChapter 9: Elia gets beaten up (pre-Elippo)Chapter 10: Filippo's got the worst taste in music (Elippo)Capitolo 11: Piano B (Gen, Nicotino)Capitolo 12: Un'occasione in cui pure Marti ha detto "Ho un'erezione"Chapter 13: Nico fusses over Marti (post 29/04 clip)Chapter 14: Niccolò having a bad morning and Marti tries to be comforting <3Chapter 15: Niccolò is spiralling in self-shame after an exam at Uni goes bad and Marti is having NONE of itChapter 16: So Martino is flawed, who would have guessed? (Flawed 1/2)Chapter 17: Nobody is perfect, and that's okay (Flawed 2/2)





	1. Put a ring on it (ITA) - Rames

Ha pensato ad un tatuaggio, all’inizio.  
Ce l’aveva anche trascinato, Martino, dentro al _Bloody Anvil._ Salvo poi non sapersi decidere su cosa far disegnare. Un filo rosso sui mignoli di entrambi, ma anche una giraffa sui fianchi... e perché non il segno dell’infinito sulla spalla, una clessidra o un orologio rotto con la scritta ‘Minuto per minuto’ sul petto, una maschera gettata sui sampietrini di Via della Conciliazione sulla schiena... Perché non ‘MartiNico’ giusto sopra all’inguine?   
  
“Il mio voto non va a nessuno di quelli che hai detto finora.”  Aveva mormorato sulle sue labbra, sorridendogli. Non aveva accantonato del tutto l’idea, non aveva scelto lui per Niccolò credendo così di rendergli la vita più facile. “Belle idee, per carità, ma ne preferirei uno disegnato da te. Che ne dici di tornare quando ce l’avrai?”   
  
Ed erano tornati a casa, e Marti aveva passato la notte a guardarlo disegnare e a sentirsi raccontare il perché avrebbero dovuto farsi tatuare questo piuttosto che quell’altro. Alla fine non si era saputo decidere, ma la voglia di avere qualcosa che gli ricordasse _costantemente_ Martino anche quando non si potevano vedere era rimasta. Qualcosa che potesse sfiorare con proprie dita, esattamente come stava facendo in quel momento con il freddo metallo dell’helix, scostandogli una ciocca dalla fronte.  
  
L’helix! Certo!   
E stavolta l’avrebbe fatto senza nemmeno dirgli nulla. Sarebbe stata una sorpresa. Ne avevano già discusso, ma poi non se n’era fatto niente.   
  
_‘Me lo voglio fa’ pure io, un giorno di questi, sai?’_ Gli aveva detto, in un sussurro, posandogli le labbra sull’orecchio.  
_‘Non venì poi a piagne da me perché te fa male, te che c’hai ‘na soglia del dolore pari allo zero assoluto.’_ Martino aveva protestato, ma era chiaro che la prospettiva di avere lo stesso piercing - lui sul sinistro, Nico sul destro -  non gli dispiaceva affatto.   
_‘Stai a sfida’ la mia soglia del dolore? Vuoi che te faccia vede’ che non è poi così bassa, mh?’_ E la conversazione si era spostata altrove, per poi essere dimenticata.  
  
Già s’immaginava la reazione di Martino quando l’avrebbe visto.  
Avrebbe fatto finta di essere imbarazzato da un gesto tanto plateale, specie quando Giovanni ed Elia avrebbero iniziato a scherzarci su... Avrebbe abbassato lo sguardo per poi dire ‘ _Vabbé, voi continuate pure a rosica’, rega_.’ e l’avrebbe trascinato in bagno per mostrargli effettivamente quanto l’apprezzava.

Non c’era universo in cui potrebbe andare diversamente, vero?


	2. Put a ring on it (ENG) - Nicotino

Niccolò was dead set on getting a matching tattoo, at first.  
He had even managed to drag Martino all the way to _Bloody Anvil_ – a parlor he had chosen mostly for the stellar reviews and its proximity to Ostiense… but it had been its cartoonish name that really won him over – but then his brain started fizzling out. Coming up with too many designs all at once, unable to settle on one.  
What about… A red thread of fate on their pinkies, going down all the way from the little fingers to their hearts and tangling to spell each other’s name.  
What about… A giraffe on their hips? The infinite symbol on their shoulders? A broken hourglass or a clock with ‘minute by minute’ written under it, on their chests?  
What about… A white mask, dropped carelessly on the grey cobblestones of Via della Conciliazione, on their backs? Or ‘MartiNico’ just above their pelvis?

“My vote goes to… None of those you just mentioned.” Marti said softly, smiling as he leaned in for a kiss. He didn’t try to talk Niccolò out of it, he didn’t even try to say ‘Okay, let’s go with this one’.  
It shouldn’t surprise him, not after they’ve been dating for nearly two months… and yet it does.  
It would have been so easy to say that he was trying to help, that he was doing what’s best for Niccolò… and yet he didn’t. “They are all amazing ideas, don’t get me wrong… but I don’t trust any artist in here to get them right. I’d rather have you sketch them, first, you know? So why don’t we go home and you do that?”  
  
So they did, and then he started thinking that he wanted something new that represented them and their future… not something that was still connected with their past.  
Marti spent the night watching him draw, listening to the reasoning that had him preferring one design over the other, and made sure to keep all the sketches and the notes neatly tucked away in a folder. For future reference.  
He hadn’t been able to find the perfect tattoo, but he still craved for something that could _constantly_ remind him of Martino. Something he could touch, run his fingertips on just like was doing with Marti’s helix as he tucked his hair behind his ear.

The helix! Of course! The solution had been there, right in front of him, the whole time. 

And this time Nico wouldn’t breathe a word about it. It was going to be a surprise. A welcome one, hopefully. Martino did seem intrigued, when Niccolò mentioned he might pierce his right ear so that they could have matching helix piercings.  
  
_‘I really wanna have one too…’_ He’d told him,brushing his lips against the cold metal. Biting and pulling at it, until he had Martino writhing underneath him.  
_‘Yeah… yeah… Then don’t come crying because it hurts.’_  Marti had said, huffing.  ‘ _You and your non-existent pain threshold.’_  
‘Are you challenging my pain threshold? You wanna see how much it takes for me to actually feel any, huh?’ And then he had been dared to prove it - not that he actually did, fearful as Martino was about hurting him for real – and the helix had been forgotten.  
__  
He could already picture how Martino would react, when he saw his pierced ear.  
How he would pretend to be mortified by such a cheeky gesture, especially when Giovanni and Elia would start teasing him about it… How he would bit at his lip, running his thumb over it, and then he would proudly raise his head to look them him in the eyes and say ‘ _Well, you keep being ridicously jealous you ain’t as cool as us, guys. I’ve got better things to do_.’  
‘Things’ also known as Niccolò, of course. Who would have been dragged to the nearest bathroom, where Marti could show him just how much he appreciated the helix…  
  
There was no universe in which things could go differently, right?  



	3. Surprise in the kitchen (Gen, Nicotino)

What did he do to deserve this? He had been working hard to be a better person for months, now, and that’s what he gets from the universe in return?

Come on, he still has his whole life ahead of him! 

The plan was to go home and relax, and perhaps call Niccolò too to remind him he needed some sleep as well, after he spent the whole day helping Filippo out with his latest project. 

Martino wasn’t into photography that much, but hanging out with Fili always had the upside of showing him new places where he could take Nico out for a date.

Besides, he was curious to find out if Filippo had anything to do with Elia’s sudden disinterest in partying and girls – one could think that it was due to the approaching end of the year, but Santini’s motto had always been ‘you can make up for a bad grade, but not for the lost time’ , so… - and evasiveness when hooking up was mentioned.                    

What he had found out was quite fascinating, indeed: it didn’t sound like the two of them were dating, but Elia did have a chance with him, if he ever got the guts to make the first move. Well… If his own experience with Niccolò had taught him anything, it was that if it was bound to happen… Then it would.

No need for him to interfere and try to speed up the process.But then Filippo asked if he fancied coming over to his place. Eleonora was supposed to be out and he didn’t feel like having dinner alone. Marti sent a text to Nico, checking if he had any plans for the night, but it seemed that he was too tired to be hungry. Homework have been killing him and he isn’t even done yet.

“You can go check on him, if you are worried.” Filo said, as Martino put the phone back in his pocket.

“I’m not.”  What he fears is Niccolò shutting him out… Being exhausted comes with attending the last year of high school, with finals drawing so close that most students are having multiple nervous breakdowns. “Maybe later.”

The plan wasn’t to die of food poisoning, because his boyfriend had been spending the day with Eleonora – he said that is own room had become too stifling and he needed somewhere where he could focus on his studies  - and they thought it would be nice for Martino and Filippo to come home to a delicious dinner.

“You can’t go wrong with Shepherd’s Pie.” Eleonora says with a smile, as she serves clumpy looking mashed potatoes mixed with a weird bolognaise sauce. 

“I swear I didn’t put any tabasco in it. Or sour cream. Or vegan salami. No anchovies, either.” Niccolò cuts in, beaming with pride.

He looks so eager for Martino to taste his dish that he hasn’t got the heart to say no.

Oh well, there are worse ways to go.


	4. Put a ring on it - Sequel (Rames, ITA)

Non capita spesso che Niccolò riesca ad avvicinarsi, senza che lui se ne accorga. 

A ben pensarci, l’unica volta che è successo è stato quel venerdì che ancora preferisce far finta non sia mai esistito. 

Ma ci sta lavorando, per rammentarne solo gli aspetti migliori. Il tuffo al cuore quando ha sentito le mani di Nico sugli occhi, l’adrenalina a mille nel prendere quel treno verso Milano. Un gesto sconsiderato, senz’ombra di dubbio, ma proprio per questo alquanto eccitante.

E di eccitante c’era stato anche ben altro, sotto le luci rosse di quell’appartamento… o anche nella doccia, malgrado tutte le gomitate che si son dati prima di capire come starci in due… La spensieratezza di poter camminare mano nella mano col suo ragazzo, in una città dove nessuno lo conosce o lo giudica. 

La felicità nel vedere gli occhi di Niccolò illuminarsi non appena entrano al Bar Luce. Sono ricordi preziosi, che non meritano di venir cancellati da ciò che è successo qualche ora più tardi.

Non sempre ci riesce, a non farsi sopraffare dall’angoscia quando ci ripensa. Succede sempre meno spesso, però. Chissà, forse un giorno potrà anche tornare in Piazza Gae Aulenti senza sentirsi svenire.È lì che vanno i suoi pensieri, quando due palmi ben conosciuti gli bloccano la visuale.

Sussulta, ha un brivido, e non riesce a rispondere al suo “Chi sono?” Rimane un po’ intontito dal “Sorpresa!” di Niccolò, che non sta più nella pelle e lo invita a voltarsi, afferrandogli il polso.

“Noti niente di diverso? Te devo dà n’indizio? Perché me sento magnanimo, oggi, e te lo darei quindi non ‘sta a fà orecchie da mercante.” Non è tanto quel poco velato riferimento, quanto il continuo istinto di Niccolò di andarsi a toccare l’orecchio destro – la lingua batte dove il dente duole, c’è poco da fare, è più forte di lui – a fargli capire che sta riferendo al piercing. La pelle è arrossata, irritata dal contatto continuo con le dita di Nico.

“Fa male, eh?”  Chiede, cercando di distrarlo. Gli prende la mano, accompagnandolo verso l’entrata. Potrebbe baciarlo, ma poi finirebbe per distarsi pure lui e farsi segnare assente alla prima ora. No, non è il caso.

“’na cifra. Ma come vedi, non sto a piagne.”  Risponde, inarcando le sopracciglia e piegando la testa da un lato. “Ancora non m’hai detto che ne pensi, però.” Si fermano giusto davanti alla IVB, fingendo di non notare Giovanni ed Elia che si sbracciano per salutarli.

Che ne pensa? Che gli sta da Dio. Che non credeva che lui e Nico avrebbero mai fatto questo genere di cose, per sentirsi più vicini e complementari, ma che non gliene frega un cazzo. Che li prendano pure per il culo. Problemi loro se non c’hanno de meglio da fà.

“Lo adoro.” Gli sussurra, accarezzandogli una guancia. Okay, magari un bacio ce potrebbe anche stà adesso…

“Ao’, ma ce la fate? Pare che state a partì per la guerra!”  Li interrompe Elia, urlandogli dietro.

Magari anche no.


	5. Eva & Elia

Eva non è poi così male. Era un diventata un po’  ‘na pressa quanto stava con Gio, ed era rimasto alquanto deluso nel venire a sapere che se la faceva con uno di quei fighetti di Villa, tal Canegallo –  c’era da ammettere che sicuramente Federico era meglio di quello stronzo della squadra di pallanuoto, anche se mai e poi mai di fronte al diretto interessato – ma, tutto sommato, ad Elia non dispiace.

Ammira come sia sempre stata in grado di rialzarsi. Dopo essersi trovata sola, trattata come un’appestata dalle sue ex amiche. Dopo aver chiuso con Giovanni, per cui aveva messo in gioco tutto. Dopo aver creduto troppo in una storia senza futuro. Dopo essersi messa a nudo con uno che manco meritava il saluto, da lei.

E cazzo quanto ancora gli fa montare l’odio dentro, che ci stia davvero gente in giro che non sa riconoscere che okay, ha superato il limite e può solo scusarsi di aver messo un’altra persona a disagio. Cioè, è capitato pure a lui di essere un po’ troppo pressante… Ma c’arriva a capire _‘no_ ’ è _‘no’_ e non _‘dai, insisti un altro po’ e te la do su un piatto d’argento’_ E di sicuro non va a metter in giro voci su una soltanto perché non c’è stata. Gli è capitato di farlo alle medie, ed è finita che s’è preso un calcio nelle palle dalla migliore amica della tipa. No grazie, mai più. 

Fatto sta che, comunque, Eva sta ancora lì. Ancora in piedi, ancora fiduciosa abbastanza da lasciarsi avvicinare nonostante le numerose scottature.

E vorrebbe avercela con lei per aver tentato di accollargli Silvia, ma non gli riesce. Anche lui ne ha fatte, di cazzate, per il bene dei suoi amici. Quel che conta è che abbia imparato che le idee di Niccolò non sono sempre così geniali. Con quello charme è facile pendergli dalle labbra, ma pure lui ne spara di stronzate. Stratosferiche. 

Non c’è bisogno, davvero, che si faccia perdonare aiutandolo a mettersi con Filippo.

“No, guarda, stanne fuori.” Borbotta, spegnendo con decisione la sigaretta.  “Faccio da solo.”

“Eli, io sondo solo il terreno. Controllo e te dico se magari se po’ fa? Poi decidi te.”  Detto così sembra un approccio fattibile, innocente, ma Filo è mica nato ieri. E poi Elia ha le spalle abbastanza larghe da farsi avanti da solo, sbatterlo contro il muro più vicino e constatare di persona se si può fare. 

Si tratta soltanto di trovare l’occasione giusta per agire.

Apprezza il gesto, però.  

“No, grazie. Controllo io. Piuttosto, qual è il prossimo party a cui pensate d’imbucarvi, te e le altre?” Domanda, prendendo la questione un po’ alla larga.

“Che c’è, vuoi che chieda ad Ele di portarsi dietro anche Filippo?” Sa già la risposta, per cui tira fuori il cellulare e manda immediatamente un messaggio ad Eleonora. “Fatto. Ti mando l’ora e il posto più tardi, okay?”

“Okay.” Ottimo, ora si tratta soltanto di pianificare la conquista di Filippo Sava.


	6. Say whaaaat? (Elippo)

Elia isn’t quite sure of why he is so disappointed by his friends’ reaction. Perhaps it is hard to admit that he let his imagination run wild, conjuring up a scenario for his coming out that was never going to come true.  
They are so damn happy for him, so proud to see Elia embrace his feelings for Filippo rather than run from them.  
He can’t really blame them for not living up to his expectations, then, can he?  
It’s just that… This is all so… Underwhelming?  
There have been plenty of proud smiles, and hugs… But that’s it. Nobody’s jaw dropped, nobody started tearing their hair out.  
They _all_ saw it coming, they were _all_ just waiting for him to stop being so secretive about it…. Yet they didn’t think it’d be nice to have a ‘Congratulations on the sex’ cake ready for him.  
  
“This means you’re bisexual, zi’!” Luchino says, looking so proud of himself for using the right word, this time.  
“Oh, finally we can stop pretending we didn’t know the two of you were dating…” Sana rolls her eyes, trying to sound annoyed but failing when a smile tugs at her lips.  
“I suppose you could do a lot worse, Filo… “ Eleonora shrugs her shoulders, clearly not impressed by her brother’s choice. Elia braces himself for some kind of shovel talk that never comes: they must have reached some kind of agreement beforehand, when she started going out with that guy…  If Filippo is willing to believe Incanti can make his sister happy, Eleonora can do the same with Santini.  
  
Silvia reminds everyone about how she knew right from that night, when Filippo was shown one of the worst photos Elia had on his profile and still said he’d fuck him in a heartbeat. Whatever.  
Federica isn’t making much sense, with her ‘I don’t know who I ship more now: Martinico or Filia?’  
  
“I CAN’T BELIEVE IT, GUYS! SINCE WHEN?” Trust Niccolò to deliver the kind of response he has been waiting for. He is bouncing on his feet, unable to stay still. “Where did you two meet for the first time? Who asked the other out? When… Oh, fuck. ” He suddenly goes quiet, fiddling with his hands. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t realize. I would have never suggested setting you up with Silvia, otherwise.”  
  
“Learn to mind your fucking business next time.” He slaps the back of Niccolò’s head hard enough to make him yelp, and then he elbows him in the ribs and grins. “Apologies accepted, bro.”   
  
“No apologies needed as far as I’m concerned, Nico… I mean, if I had to wait for your boyfriend to introduce the two of us… By now I would barely know he existed, let alone how looks and what he’s called.” Filippo comments, giving Martino the finger and getting one back in return. “Besides, I am well aware it was all part of your masterplan to make Eva and Gio realize they belong together.”  
  
“WHAT?”


	7. Car accident (Incantava)

He can’t quite believe it, for a moment. 

It must be a prank. Yeah, right… And Filippo is sick enough to play along, to send him a text that has him running to the nearest E.R.

 _‘Ele got into a car accident. Get your ass here asap.’_ It could be a nightmare, but no matter how hard he tries he can’t wake up.

He should have been there. He thought Eleonora had a point, when she told him they should stop seeing each other for a while… Focusing on school stuff was nearly impossible when they were together, and she wanted to pass her 4th year with flying colors.

A sentiment he could get behind, since had no intention of graduating with anything less than 100/100.

It all feels so stupid, now.

He’s only been told she isn’t seriously injured, but still. He needs to see her with his own eyes, before he can believe it. And even when he finally does, he can’t shake off the feeling that he nearly lost her.

Never again is he going to let someone he loves slips through his fingers. He won’t allow it.

************************************“

“Stop fussing, you two! I’m okay. I don’t need you to watch my every move, to bring me food whenever I’m hungry and a drink when I’m thirsty… I can take care of myself.”

Eleonora sighs, but her complaints fall on deaf ears. Neither Filippo nor Edoardo seem to be able to keep their fretting in check, however.

They keep insisting that she shouldn’t be up and about just yet. One would think Eleonora did have a brush with death, or something, by the way they act… When, really, it’s barely more than a couple of bruised ribs. She’s got a broken arm and a sprained wrist as well, sure, but that doesn’t change anything.

“We know you can, Ele.” Edoardo says, softly, taking her hands in his and then raising them to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “Then why…” She refuses to melt under that gentle touch, to let it distract her from the point she was trying to make. “Why can’t you let me be, Edo?”

“Try to put yourself in our shoes, you annoying little shit.” Filippo stops her right there, before she can turn this into a stupid argument with her boyfriend. “Look back at all those times when I was beaten up, and tell me you never went over the top with your concern about my wellbeing.”

She can’t, and he knows it. Okay, well, maybe they simply need a couple of days to accept that there are things that will always be beyond their control. To realize that Eleonora isn’t lying, when she says she’s fine.

Just a couple of days. A week, at most. Everything will go back to normal, then, and she will do her best to pretend this never happened.

Why dwell on the past, when you can’t learn a single thing from it?

It wouldn’t be sensible.


	8. Primo Bacio (Rames, ITA)

Non si può certo dire che sia una bella persona. Non dopo quello che ha fatto ad Eva, senza nemmeno avere il coraggio di confessarlo a Giovanni. Lo fosse stato, avrebbe chiuso subito la storia con Emma. Avrebbe messo in chiaro che non c'era alcun interesse da parte sua. Ma no, addirittura è andato a dirle che c'è una di terza che gli piace. Ma perché? Essere spaventato da ciò che prova per Nico, il timore di non essere ricambiato… non sono scuse sufficienti. Si meriterebbe di venir abbandonato a se stesso da tutti quanti, davvero. 

Eppure è qui, con Niccolò che non potrebbe mostrare più platealmente quanto gli stia sul cazzo il doversi accollare Maddalena ed Emma in una serata che avrebbe dovuta essere soltanto sua e di Marti. E Martino quasi si pente, di aver dubitato di lui. Di essersi sentito anche un po’ deluso, quand'era venuto fuori che non sarebbero stati soli.

Se l'era sognato, quel momento in quasi s'erano baciati? Correva troppo, nel pensare che Niccolò volesse recuperare l'occasione perduta quanto prima? 

No. Accadrà. Magari non stasera, ma presto. Può aspettare.

—————————————————

Non ci può credere, cazzo. Sta succedendo sul serio. Ha finalmente avuto il coraggio di fare il primo passo, di confermare con un bacio rapido e fugace che se Martino ancora lo vuole lui è lì. 

Alla sua mercé. 

E Marti non è scappato.

 _“_ Embé… _”_  Non può fare a meno di sussurrare, prima di fiondarsi nuovamente sulle sue labbra. _‘_

 _Non sprechiamo nemmeno un altro secondo. Respirare è sopravvalutato. Ci toccherà uscire di qui, ma non c'è fretta, Marti. Marti, Marti, Marti, Marti. Ehi, dove vai? Non t'allontanare. Torna qui, fatti baciare. Vedrai che non c'interromperanno ancora, stasera. Ci siamo solo io e t-_ ’

“AO’, MA CHE STATE A FA’ ? ZOZZI!”

_‘Ma porc…. Mò me lo porto a casa, deciso.’_


	9. Beaten Up (Pre-Elippo)

“Are you insane?”

No, he isn’t. Reckless, maybe.

He really shouldn’t have gone looking for a fight with those homophobes. But he’s fucking tired of listening to their sniggering and their insults just because Martino and Niccolò dared to sit next to each other.

They don’t even feel comfortable enough to hold each other’s hand, in public. Long gone are those carefree days in which they make out in the middle of a bar, right in front of everyone. And that’s not fair.

What was he supposed to do? Just let them do whatever they pleased, let them walk all over his friends? No way.

So what if he ended up with a bloody nose, a split lip and bruised ribs? Totally worth it. Marti and Nico were safe.

“Don’t say a word, you idiot. What if they had a knife, huh?” Well, this is not how he’d have pictured his first talk with Filippo Sava.

He usually didn’t care that much what other people thought of him, but being scolded by the older guy left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Elia needed to make him forget about tonight, to impress him and change his mind about what an idiot he was. To repay Filo for nursing him back to health.

Maybe Incanti could help. He did win him over, in the end, didn’t he?


	10. You're the worst (Elippo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Can you write an Elippo fic where Elia is in Filippo’s room and he doesn’t know the song (last clip) and Filippo was like HOW DARE YOU NOT KNOW RAP FUTURISTICO and so he start playing it out loud and sing it to Elia doing dumb moves and at “tranne te” part screaming at his face and then kiss him like the Patatine e Marmellata clip?

He loved many things about his boyfriend. His full lips, and that fucking piercing he couldn’t help but bite every time they were kissing. His strong thighs, and the way they would feel around his hips while they were fucking. His cock, and how he knew exactly how to make him beg for it.

And it went beyond a mere phisical attraction… As much as it still scared Elia, he could now admit that was true.

Filippo was funny,  thoughtful and sweet. Never had he acted like knew better than him, refusing to hear Elia’s opinion on a certain matter, just because he was older.  Never had he asked to rediscuss their relationship: it naturally progressed from casual to committed, as they got to know each other better.

His taste in music, however… Damn, it was atrocious. He sang along to the most trashy songs one could think about and expect Elia to sing along as well. Like now.

“Come on! How can you not know Rap Futuristico? I can’t believe it!” He huffed, before he started singing at the top of his lungs. 

“I was just a baby when it came out…” Elia reminded him, refusing to give in. “And I can’t stand Fabri Fibra.”

“What? Do you realize this could be the end for us? I’m not really sure I can get over this blatant disregard of one of my most beloved idol…” He sighed dramatically, covering his face with one arm as he flopped onto the mattress beside the younger boy.

“Aspetta che ti mostro il cazzo che me ne frega.*” Sang Elia, suggestively, and made a point of how many fucks he willing to give by getting promptly naked and sitting onto his boyfriend’s lap.

“Okay, you know what? We’re done.” Filippo said, trying to sound serious but failing miserabily. He grinned, as he went to turn his iPod off. Better keep the music out of the bedroom, from now on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * ‘Let me show you all the fucks that I give’ : it can’t be translated literally, but as you know ‘cazzo’ means ‘cock’ in Italian ;) … It’s from Rovazzi’s song “Tutto molto interessante”


	11. Piano B (ITA, Gen)

Ma come c’è finito qui, in questa situazione del cazzo, esattamente?   
Ah sì, già: si fa _sempre_ trascinare dall’entusiasmo di Nico con estrema facilità - non per nulla ha interpellato Filippo per metter freno a discutibili scelte d’arredamento - e non ha avuto la fermezza necessaria per fargli presente quanto il suo piano fosse assurdo.

Far collaborare Gio ed Eva per un improbabile ed insensato impiccio non sarebbe bastato a farli riavvicinare. Giovanni avrebbe perso interesse nella faccenda non appena avrebbe avuto meglio da fare con Sofia. Eva non l’avrebbe presa bene ed avrebbe reso quella che era un’idea assurda la sua missione di vita, costringendo anche Martino a fare la sua parte. E come volevasi dimostrare…   
Be’, sicuramente è una fissazione migliore dell’alcool e non rischierà di venir coinvolto in una rissa se le cose dovessero andar nel verso sbagliato.   
Ecco, guardiamo il lato positivo delle cose.

Perché di speranze che la cosa funzioni ce ne son davvero poche. Avrebbero almeno potuto proporre Luchino, ma no. Si sono impuntati su due che che finora si son rivolti soltanto occhiatacce e parole poco gentili. L’aver quasi dato fuoco ad Osvaldo, tra l’altro, non gli ha certo fatto acquistare fascino agli occhi di Silvia. Compensasse almeno con la popolarità. Con l’invidia che susciterebbe in tutte le altre l’uscire con lui… Ma no, manco quello.  
Elia Santini non è Edoardo Incanti. E meno male. Cioè, okay, Martino l’ha leggermente rivalutato dopo venerdì scorso ed è eternamente grato a Chicco Rodi e Rocco Martucci, ma… Si son rivelati persone vagamente decenti invece di grandissimi coglioni, tutto qui. Non c’allarghiamo troppo.

Sta messo male, davvero. Al diciottesimo di uno dei suoi migliori amici a sparar stronzate. A tentar di convincere Elia che Silvietta non è poi così male. Ha delle belle mani - e se sa lavorar di polso come Nico… si può anche passar sopra che le sue dita non siano altrettanto lunghe ed affusolate - e delle labbra piuttosto notevoli.   
E Niccolò se la ride, ascoltando i suoi tentativi disperati… ma non è che i suoi siano tanto meglio. La sta presentando come se Elia, dall’alto delle sue innumerevoli esperienze, possa farle da guru. Essere il primo, indimenticabile, amore della sua vita. Far leva sul suo ego è una buona strategia, di solito… ma Elia è strano, ultimamente. Dice di essere interessato solo ad una botta e via - decisamente NON quello di cui Silvia ha bisogno - ma poi manco ci prova, a portarsi qualcuno a letto. Che siano donne o uomini.   
Martino non sa che pensare, sul serio, ma alla fine non sono affari suoi. Elia sembra contento così com’è, nella sua fase di stati, e chi è per fargli una predica su come vivere la sua vita?

Nico, intanto, la dose sul fisico di Silvia mostrandogli pure delle foto come evidenza. 

“Dai, non si può negare che ‘na gran fregna. Vero, Marti?” Marti fa un po’ fatica a concentrarsi, con la mano di Niccolò che gli accarezza l’interno coscia. Annuirebbe pure se gli chiedessero se crede che Gio sia meglio di lui a FIFA, a questo punto.

“Concordo!” Salta su Luchino, senza nemmeno essere stato interpellato.

“A te basta che respirino, Luchì. E che te mostrino un minimo di gentilezza. Non capisco dove vogliate andare a parà, rega. Senz’offesa: che ne sai di fregna te, Marti? E dei gusti di uno che me mette Garau prima del sottoscritto, non è che me possa fidà.” Sbuffa, piuttosto contrariato.  
Severo, ma giusto. Ragionamento ineccepibile, inattaccabile.  
Inutile insistere: non lo smuoveranno di un millimetro e rischiano pure di rovinargli la festa di compleanno. Meglio ripiegare su un piano B. Subito.

“E tu Luchì? Che ne diresti se ti dessimo l’occasione di provarci con Silvia?” Dovrete suggerirgli di cosa parlare, fargli presente quali siano gli argomenti off limits con una ragazza, e prepararvi ad essergli di conforto casomai lo mollasse al bancone come l’ultimo dei deficienti… 

“Che siete davvero i migliori?”

“Ora sì che ragioniamo.” I lineamenti di Elia si rilassano, e le sue labbra si piegano in un sorriso. “Ho in mente una strategia INFALLIBILE.”


	12. E che problema c'è?

Non avrebbe dovuto lasciarsi convincere da Niccolò che sarebbero stati soltanto cinque minuti. Che avrebbero fatto in tempo a tornare ognuno nella propria aula alla fine dell’intervallo. Nessuno di loro due si può permettere di perdere altre lezioni, ma non vuole né fare la figura del ‘noioso’ della situazione - seppur adori vedere Niccolò mettere su il broncio e fingersi offeso ed i tentativi di farlo desistere dai suoi nobili propositi siano sempre i benvenuti - né ricordare al suo ragazzo che la maturità si avvicina. Bastano già le notti in cui Nico si sveglia madido di sudore, e comincia a dire che non ha nessuna intenzione di presentarsi per le prove scritte o all’orale.

“Ordinaria amministrazione.” Sostiene Filippo. “Sapessi quante volte l’ho detto io per i miei esami. Pure quei pochi che ho passato con 30, eh.” 

Insomma, tra essere uno studente responsabile e far felice Ni... Non c’è storia. 

Tra l’altro, è difficile concentrarsi su suoni che non siano i loro respiri affannati. O i mugolii malamente soffocati mordendosi le labbra. 

Può darsi che siano tornati tutti in classe, là fuori, ma non ci metterebbe la mano sul fuoco. Preferirebbe di gran lunga metterla sul culo di Nico, per spingerlo maggiormente contro di sè. Sarebbe una mossa controproducente, però, visto che sta cercando di darsi una calmata e convincersi che sarebbe meglio aspettare di essere a casa. Sua madre non ha nulla in contrario che si chiudano in camera e si premura _sempre_ di bussare, specie dopo essere entrata ed averli trovati praticamente nudi ed in una posizione difficilmente equivocabile. 

Ecco, pensa a tua madre ed alla volta che t’ha beccato mentre avevi la faccia tra le cosce di Niccolò. Visualizza quel momento, chiedi mille volte scusa mentalmente a Gio per averlo interrotto in un momento fin troppo simile con Eva - fanculo il karma - e vedrai che ti calmi.

No. Manco quello basta, con Niccolò che fa scivolare le sue mani sotto la camicia mentre gli si strofina contro. 

“Ni...” Sussurra, implorandolo di fermarsi. “Ho un’erezione.”

Niccolò si ferma, allontanandosi. Intreccia le sue dita con quelle di Martino, portandole alle labbra. ‘ _Possiamo andare, se davvero è ciò che vuoi.’_ gli dice, con uno sguardo. 

A questo punto Martino dovrebbe annuire, ma ogni parvenza di logica è morta quando sono entrati in bagno e Niccolò l’ha sbattuto contro la porta... perciò scuote la testa, rifiutando di andarsene. 

“E che problema c’è, allora? Ci sono qui io.”  


	13. Io sì, che avro cura di te (Eng, Nicotino)

"Where do you think you're going?"

Damn, he shouls have known Niccolò was watching his every move. Ever since the fight on Wednesday night, he felt the need to constantly check up on him.  
Hadn't he put his foot down, gently reminding his boyfriend that they couldn't just spend an entire week in bed, Nico would have never agreed to leave their safe haven. The only place they could truly be themselves, and have nothing to fear. Hiding, however, meant letting _them_ win once more, letting them ruin the best thing he had in his life... No way he was going to let that happen.Ever.

Staying in sure was temping, but then they would be surrounded by relatives and waste their precious time together discussing inane topics, being forced to eat at least four chocolate eggs, two colombas, nonna's pastiera and his aunt poor attempt at a casatiello.  
What about that message Nico asked him to read, to busy marking the other side of his neck - so that nobody was gonna be able to tell the difference between a hickey and the bruise _those fuckers_ left on his skin - and grinning when Martino's breath hitched (and how exactly was he supposed to focus on what was written on the screen, with Niccolò's fingertips brushing against his nipple, softly stroking his chest and abs, only to hesitate at his pelvis, leaving him hard and desperate for his touch) to do it himself?

Niccolò's party had mostly been a bust, indeed, but it did give him a chance to reconnect with some old friends.  
Friends who didn't go at Virgilio, that had little interest in finding out why got held back a year and transferred to another school. Clever enough to realize how blessed one was to have Niccolò in their life, that they shouldn't let this opportunity to have him back go to waste.  
Martino was sure he would get along with them just fine.

 _'We're heading down to Ostia.'_ It said. _'You and Martino are more than welcome to join us and rub your happiness in our faces.'_

It was their way to say that didn't mind Nico brought his boyfriend along, even though the rest of them weren't having a romantic getaway.  
Niccolò's friends were fun, artsy and prone to tease him to no end about dating a younger boy. Martino didn't mind, it never went too far and a flustered Ni was a sight to behold. He appreciated them even more, after a couple of day as they they went out of their way to persuade Nico that nothing was going to happen if he went for a swim. Martino was old enough to take care himself for a few hours, wasn't he?

 _'Yeah, I guess. You know you can't leave the porch, right, Marti?'_ He finally relented, taking forever to kiss him goodbye. Just one more. And then another. And then why not add some tongue in it? A bit of groping? Is dry humping really too much? What a shame.   
Martino found Nico's overbearing tendencies endearing, but he didn't want the boy to make himself sick with worry. To focus on his own well-being, for a few hours, and have fun. That's what they came here for, isn't it? 

"Nowhere." He answered, daring Nico to fight on his obvious lie.

"Maaaarti..." Niccolò walked up to him, taking his hand and bringing it to his mouth. How could such small gesture, his lips brushing against Martino's knuckles, make him feel so warm inside? Cared for. Loved.

"Nicoooo" He leaned in for a quick kiss, melting into his boyfriend soft embrace. Nothing but the two of them existed, when they held on to each other like that.

Damn... he would fight anyone who dared to try and take that away from him. Well, first he needed to learn some self-defence. That, maybe, might ease some of the guilt Niccolò has been feeling lately. Nico knew he had no fault in any of it, on a rational level, but still... If had been there...

"What are you doing here? Missing me already?" Martino teased him, as they parted.

"Yep." He tilted his head, grinning.

"Wanna sit with me? Or on me... You choose."

"That's one tough choice, I'm gonna need some time to think about it."

He went for the second option, of course. Ended up dozing off on Martino's chest as he read from his notes, preparing for the Philosophy's oral test he was going to have on the 29th.

No matter what the world would throw at them, they were always gonna have this.

Their love. With its heated moments and peaceful instants.

Always.


	14. ... e pace all'anima

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A totally self-indugent piece, written as my coping mechanism during an anxiety filled day. Now I definitely feel a bit better, which all that matters :)
> 
> Despite the title, IT’S IN ENGLISH.

He finds him in the kitchen, washing up all those pans and dishes they were too lazy to care about last night.  
The floors are sparkling, the clothes have been all been ironed and folded up and he's pretty sure the furniture has been rearranged.  
He is singing under his breath, it's a barely audible tune but Martino knows which are Niccolò's comfort songs. 

Lyrics that seems to fit his melancholy to a T - too many, all too somber for Marti's liking - or tunes that soothe him, bring him back to his childhood, to easier times when all he used to worry about was finding the last stickers to complete his album. 

He doesn't ask if everything is okay, when it clearly isn't. Niccolò probably doesn't know himself what got him on the verge of hyperventilating, made him feel like ants were crawling up his skin. 

It can't be the disagreement they had last night that triggered this, can it?  
They have always known they have totally different tastes in.... Well, pretty much everything.  
Martino believes Wes Anderson's movies to be quite boring and pretentious, can't really get into Earl Sweatshirt's music no matter how hard he tries and doesn't understand half of the things Niccolò talks about. And while, yeah, finding out that whom you love isn't dying to watch the latest season of _Stranger Things_ , or listening to Apparat over and over again, can be a bit disheartening... It shouldn't matter. It doesn't.  
If anything, being with Niccolò broadens his horizons. Most of the time he won't like what his boyfriend does, but every now and then it happens. He discovers about something new and exciting. Like, he would have never found out about _The Good Place_ if he hadn't stepped out of his comfort zone. And take Eleanor and Chidi: they couldn't be more different one to the other if they tried... But does that stop them? Make them run away from their own feelings?  
Nope: they love each other, everything else can fork off.  
So... No, it can't be that.

 _Dalla mia testa come uva matura gocciola il folle vino delle chiome... Voglio essere una gialla velatura, gonfia verso un paese senza nome._ drawn out in the softest way - he would clearly belt it out, wasn't he afraid of waking up his boyfriend - is followed by _Alla fiera dell'est, per due soldi, un topolino mio padre comprò_ and it's such a familiar melody that he can't help but join in. Niccolò stops singing then, looking sheepish. 

"I... "  
_'I didn't mean to bother you. I'm so sorry if I woke you up, I should have been more careful, I...'_

Martino kisses him before he can apologise, a quick and tender peck to his lips that makes Niccolò forget what he was about to say.  
He leans back against the counter, careful not to overstep his boundaries. He wants to hold him close, lull him back to sleep with that very same song, as he tenderly threads his fingers through Nico's curls. He doesn't know if that's what Ni needs, now... All he can do is try. Take it slow. Little by little. Step by step. Minute by minute.

"I never actually sang that all the way to the last chorus, you know? I always stopped when the butcher kills the bull..." As most do, really.  
His little finger reaches out to brush against Niccolò's, and he's met with a little stroke back, before Niccolò brings his hand up to his lips.  
Lays a kiss on each of his knuckles. On the pad of his fingers, and then his wrist. 

"Well, you're more than welcome to join in." He whispers against his skin, before he lets his hand go and starts drying off the plates. 

Martino wishes he could do more, that he could chase away whatever is plaguing Niccolò... Well, at least he can make sure that he will **never** have to face it alone. And that's still something, isn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rocco singing Branduardi? Yes, please.  
> And yeah, I do imagine that both would LOVE The Good Place <3 (Martino roots for Eleanor, Nico has a soft spot for Chidi and they both see a bit of Luchino in Jason X°D… Awww <3 )


	15. Fuck this shit

Well done, Niccolò.  
Cheers to you, mate. You managed to waste all of your Chistmas holidays studying, when you could have spent them in bed with Martino. I mean, what was even the point of sweating over those books?  
You’re too dumb for concepts to actually stick in your brain, clearly. So why bother?

No. No. No. Don’t you dare start crying, now.  
That’s not gonna help, it will only add insult to injury. Don’t you feel humiliated enough, already? 

Yes, he does.  
He looks at the exam paper, where he has only been able to write his name and nothing else. His mind has gone completely blank as soon as he started reading the questions, and soon after he could feel the air getting thicker and cold sweat running down his back.  
Dammit! So much for boasting, for saying that he would ace this.

“And if you don’t, who cares? It’s not like anyone’s life is on the line.” Luchino had commented, shrugging. And everyone agreed, even Marti. Because, of course, ‘ _failure_ ’ is Niccolò’s middle name… Flunking _had_ to be an option.

“Fuck this shit, I’m out.” He mumbles, bowing his head down in shame as he walks over to the teacher’s desk. He should have waited… After barely fifteen minutes, there’s no way he could have written out his answers.  
Everyone in the room is definitely aware of that… And they’re gonna know that he’s gonna have to resit this.

He can’t stand the idea of running into them again. It could happen just about anywhere. By the coffee machine. Down the corridors. In another class.

Now, dropping out sounds awesome. That’s the brightest idea he has ever had in his life or something, really. Not just of school, to be honest. More like off the face of the earth.

Lock himself in, throw away the key and then hide under the covers until he can easily pretend Niccolò Fares never existed in the first place.

It might be a bit hard on Martino, and on his parents as well, at first.  
In the long run, however, Nico's disappearance would prove to a blessing.  
Mom and Dad can stop dreading the sound of their ringtones, as they wouldn't be getting calls from the hospital or the police anymore. 

Marti... He's blinded by the fact that Niccolò is his first boyfriend, probably.  
He must have never experienced what a healthy relationship is like. What it means to be without a care in the world, at least when you're with the person you love. And when he finds that someone, it is gonna dawn on him that what he had with Nico wasn't that special.

Better start cutting ties straight away, turning off his phone and refusing to acknowledge his mother's relentless knocking on the door.  
Why is she even here? Couldn't she take a hint, when they met each other down in the hall and he didn't even say 'hello' to her?  
She's got food, she says, because _they_ can't keep on living on pasta and scrambled eggs.  
Who's "they"?  
There's no "they", here.  
There's never gonna be a "they" again. 

**************************************************

 _Ready to celebrate <3 ? (15:08)_  
_Or to drink and forget all about Uni? (18:50)  
Ni? Call me back when you read this message, please? Missing you :( (21:30) _

After 3 messages go unanswered it’s clear that Nico is currently stuck into a shame spiral, and that nothing Martino says now will get through to him.  
Thankfully he didn’t send the ‘I’ve been there too, you know? I once got a 4- in my favourite subject and I was like... If I can’t even do well in what I love, what does it say about me a student?’: making this about him, and sounding so patronising... Not a wise move.

He’s not giving up on trying to reach out to Niccolò, however. Knowing that he’s feeling like shit - spending hours focusing on his supposed uselessness and how everybody will eventually walk away and desert him - and being unable to help him... it’s unbearable.

‘That’s probably how Gio felt last year, when I tried to deal with everything on my own. Man, it sucks.’ 

No way he’s waiting for his boyfriend to take the first step. It’s not that he doesn’t have the patience for that - he’s surprised himself with how patient and understanding he can be, when it comes to Nico - but he won’t have him thinking that Martino can’t bother to try harder. That he’s not worth the trouble. 

He spends the whole night trying to find out a way in which he can make Niccolò understand that he’s here for him, without overstepping any boundaries or belittling his insecurities. He can’t find any.  
Involving Anna is out of the question. Martino causing unnecessary friction with his mother is the last thing Nico needs, right now.  
Pouring his heart out in a letter could be an option, yeah.... but would Nico even open it?  
Probably not.

In the end, it’s Luchino who provides him with the perfect solution. Something so over the top, so out of character for Marti that Nico’s curiosity will definitely be piqued...

"Guys, we should have a farewell party before we get our report cards... Because my mom is so gonna kill me when she’ll read mine. I’ve tried telling her that the system is rigged, that they’re not taking into account my dedication to learning, which I proved by showing up every day and my integrity... I mean, I would have all 8s and 9s if I cheated... And how is this outstanding honesty rewarded? It isn’t, and that’s so unfair. They have this grading bullshit all wrong..." And while Gio and Elia smiled, amused by their friend’s logic and the lenghts he would go to further his own cause, Martino found himself nodding along.

Luchì did have a point.  
Now if he could make Niccolò see that as well...

 _‘A totally **UNBIASED** and truthful report about Niccolò Fares.’_ He scribbles on the envelope, smiling as he pictured how Nico would shake his head but then proceed to open it and read its contents.

 _‘These grades do reflect the value of Niccolò Fares as a person, unlike others, as they come from the most reliable source on the matter.’_ He writes at the top of the first page, before he fills in the report card.

 **Kindness:** 10 - Niccolò is a gentle and considerate soul, much harder on himself than on anyone else.  
**Creativity:** 10 - Prepare to be blown away... And you know what I mean ;)  
**Romanticism:** 10 - Off the charts. He is never going to take you for granted. He will make sure you know that you are loved and valued, every day.  
**Dorkness:** 10 - It’s impossible to stop smiling whenever you’re near him.  
**Charm:** 10 - Have you tried to say no to Niccolò? Not to follow him to a dingy old building where you will most likely meet your death?  
**Smoothness:** 6 - Don’t let his looks fool you, he’s not half as suave as you pictured him to be... And you’re gonna love him even more for it.  
**Self-awareness:** 8 - He has indeed a deep knowledge of his own character, motives, and desires... But he holds himself to impossible standards: there sure is room from improvement on this front.  
**Sexiness:** N.A. - It’s over 9000. 

**Additional notes:** I personally consider myself lucky to have this man in my life and to be loved back by him. I am confident he can do great in Uni, and that he won’t let a bad day persuade him that he is not cut for it. Still, his well-being comes first so I will support any decision Niccolò may take regarding his future. It’s the least I can do. Fuck everything else. 

He slips it under the locked door of Niccolò’s room, and then sends a message to the Contrabbandieri’s groupchat. They’ve all seen how tired and helpless he looked in the morning, so they don’t question his request.  
They even bring food and drinks, and pretend that they actually care about winning an improvised FIFA tournament.  
Nobody mentions Nico, not even once. Even Luchino steers away from the topic... Ending up sharing way too much information about his sex life.  
He has to fake a phone call from Niccolò to get away before he hears details that would make it impossible for him to ever look Silvia in the eyes again. 

And that’s when, with an impeccable timing, he receives the text he had been waiting for what seem like ages. 

_‘You’re unbelievable, Marti. U N B E L I E V A B L E. How can you even be real? I miss you too, btw. So much. I’m not really presentable at the moment and I KNOW you don’t care about that but I DO, so... See you tomorrow?’_

‘I am not sure I can wait that long :( ...' 

_‘Who’s being hard to please, now ;) ? Focus on the fact that your patience will be THOROUGHLY rewarded.’_

‘That doesn’t make it ANY easier, Ni!' 

_‘I am known to like to make things harder, am I not, Marti ;)?’_

‘I suppose so... See you tomorrow, then <3.’ 

“Well, I guess it’s time for us to go...” Giovanni comments, as soon he steps back in the living room. 

“Nah, you can stay. I guess I can tolerate your presence for a bit longer.” He slaps his best friends knee, and grins when Elia rolls his eyes. 

“How magnanimous of you. Ready to be beaten so many times you’re gonna lose any will to play this game ever again, Rametta?” 

“Bring it on, Santini.” 


	16. Flawed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is such an important week for Niccolò and Martino: the anniversary of the first time Martino saw Nico (on the 8th), the first time they actually talked (the 11th) and then today, the World Mental Health Day… It’s not much, it’s not that good but I really wanted to pay homage, somehow, to today, last Tuesday and tomorrow. It's not really hopeful, but I plan to write another 500 words where the situation gets fixed?

It's not just about his tendency to lose track of time while he is out with the boys. Or the fact that he still hangs out with Emma, despite what she did to _both_  of them. Or that when he's frustrated, he lashes out at everyone and ends up saying thing he doesn't mean.  
It's all of that, and more.

The _"You know I am a bit OCD, when it comes to taking notes."_ one day, and then _"Can you believe that Ghezzi came into class today and told us there is going to be a massive test soon, refused to tell us on what exactly and all we could get out of her was that it's going to be on Monday? That woman is out of her mind. I swear she enjoys seeing us suffer... Aren't there rules against hiring such psychopaths_?" muttered under his breath only yesterday....

 _"I just woke up and I want this day to be over already."_  That's what he said this morning, when Niccolò asked him about his plans for tomorrow night. _“Don't ask me to think that far ahead, Ni."_

 _"Minute by minute, right?_ " He tried to keep his tone light, as he kissed Marti's forehead and bumped his nose.  
The last thing he wanted was to start the day by having a fight with his boyfriend. Over what? Minor imperfections and Niccolò being a delicate snowflake who takes harmless comments about people's mental health or common misuses of terminology to heart? Over putting school first, because the 11th of October is not even their anniversary or anything?  
No thanks...

However... It was hard to reconcile that Martino with the boy who had showed up on his doorstep on Tuesday, ready to celebrate "the day that changed his life" - HIS WORDS, not Niccolò's! - with some Netflix and chill... The one who sheepishly admitted, in the haze of the afterglow, that it had been a year since he saw him for the first time. 

_"And I know we didn't really meet until Thursday, but still...”_

How could that be the same guy who shares silly selfies when he's feeling down, that sends him a voice message of curses and lovely threats when sends pictures or himself half (or fully) naked - yeah, Nico loves to remind Martino what he's missing while he's being out there being such a diligent student: so what? - , mh?  
It didn't make sense. 

And suddenly, Niccolò couldn't bear to be in the same room with him any longer. He didn't even need to make up an excuse for dashing out, actually. He told Marti he had forgotten he had promised a friend to help out for a talk they would give on mental health awareness, and that he was already late. A half truth, since they had agreed to meet around 11:30. 

Well... Here he is. Alone with his thoughts, strolling down the streets of Rome with no particular destination in mind.  
So Martino is flawed. He is contradictory and puzzling and complex just like anyone else. Who would have guessed?  
Not him, as absurd as it might sound. In his scenarios, he's always the one screwing up and crawling back, asking for forgiveness. That Martino could be a bit of an asshole, sometimes, wasn't in the cards.

And he doesn't know how to deal with this, now.  
He hasn't got he faintest idea.  



	17. Flawed (2/2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And just like in "Fuck this shit", Martino's POV completely got out of hand...

Martino knows he screwed up. He isn’t that much of a ‘disaster gay’ – no matter how often Filippo (and his own friends, those jerks!!) likes to address him as such, to rile his Rose up – not to notice the way Nico’s mood plummeted as soon as he sat down at the table this morning.   
Regretting having to deal with how grumpy Martino can be, before he had any caffeine in him, already?  
That’s understandable… But quite unlikely.  
They aren’t really living together, yet, but they are past those petty fights.   
Who cared if someone seemed always to be too tired to do the dishes or to mop the floor? They never even discussed such trivial things, to be honest: taking care of Nico, making sure he lives in a spotless and tidy environment, is not a chore and Marti really doesn’t mind.   
Besides, they have a clashing definitions of order and totally different perceptions of how dirty the flat can get before it _has_ to be cleaned. They easily met halfway, agreeing to let Niccolò do things his way and at his own pace, without having to talk about it. 

So… if it wasn’t about Martino’s charming decaffeinated personality… What made him run for the hills?  
Was it something he said? It must be.  
Fuck. Why does his brain-to-mouth filter always fail him when he needs it the most?   
And yeah, there is a niggling voice in his head going like _‘You shouldn’t have to overthink every word you say, in fear you’re gonna hurt Nico or something. You should be free to be yourself, including who you are at your worst.’_ but he’s not listening to **_that_**.  
What’s wrong with refusing to settle for the person he is now, and striving to become a gentler and more considerate one in the future? What’s so bad about Niccolò inspiring him to give it a try, at least?  
Nothing; you can’t change his mind.  
Moreover, he has to make up for the complete lack of any talent whatsoever… Like, okay, compared to Nico - who excels at everything he does, and it's a _lot_ \- he can be dull and boring but at least he's great at owning up to his mistakes - the whole ton of them - and learn. And it's more that can be said for so many people out there, including dad, so…  
Lesson of the day: do not speak until you had your coffee, Martino, and a kiss from Niccolò so that you don't forget how lucky you are to have this - HIM - to come home to. That no matter how awful you day is going to be - and no, you can't really know beforehand, so stop being so damn negative and over dramatic… - there are always going those moments with Niccolò that will brighten it.

Okay? Okay. Now, let's get back to the matter at hand.  
After the unfortunate comparison of an obsessive-compulsive disorder to a penchant for loving neatly written notes, and finding out that Martino still his that awful word – ‘psychopath’ – in his vocabulary… It wouldn’t be too far for Niccolò to persuade himself that he was belittling his efforts (as well as his mother’s) to get out of bed in the morning, on his darkest days.  
That’s not what he meant, of course.

_’Well, you know none of your friends meant it when they said they wanted somebody to kill them, or that they were going to jump off a bridge because of school. **They** don’t do that anymore, because they know it reminds you of the bad place Nico’s mind can go sometimes… but some other classmates still throw those words around like it’s nothing, like they are really clinically depressed because their shitty most beloved show got cancelled or their favorite character died.’_

That’s it: that’s exactly the point. He knows and it still hurts. It still makes him want to stand up and scream ‘SHUT UP, YOU IDIOTS! YOU KNOW NOTHING, YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!’ at the top of his lungs.   
He can’t blame Nico for being so disappointed with him that he had to leave…

Well, all this mulling and self-deprecation won’t fix anything. He’d better think how to show him that even though he can be quite an asshole, he never acts out of maliciousness. He might have hit where it hurt out of anger, in the past, to drive people away… He wouldn’t do it, now. Not even as a last resort. He can only hope it will be enough, for Nico.

So… What should he do next?  
Should he run after him? Leave him some space?  
Should he really let Niccolò believe that he forgot what tomorrow means for them – for Martino _himself_ \- not to spoil the surprise?  
He had even persuaded Sana to let him be the main speaker, for once… He had a Spotify playlist ready to play, to let Niccolò know what he cannot say with words and sometimes fails to show with his actions…

He… He has no idea, like, his brain is fuzzy static and he’s pretty sure he will start hyperventilating soon… He needs help. Yep. If there’s one thing he got out of those hell months back in 2018 is that he doesn’t have to deal with any kind of crisis alone. Luca reaches out to them when he can’t find the right outfit for his dates with Silvia, when he doesn’t know if it really would be wise to eat that last piece of sushi even though he’s about to puke… And they should be aware that Niccolò might need them as well, even though he doesn’t dare to ask.

“Marti. First thing you gotta do is calm down…” Giovanni writes in the chat, as soon as he listens to his frantic voice message.   
“Don’t die on us, man. Oxygen is your friend. Even if it’s being a bitch now, being so heavy and shit…” Elia adds, making him smile.  
“Deep breaths. In. Out. Picture yourself lying down in a field… Feel the grass. Be the grass.” Luca joins in, earning rolling-eyes emojis and thumbs down. 

“Is this something you heard from Silvietta, Lu?”  
“Actually from our yoga teacher…”   
“Well, stop it because it’s making me long for some weed and we have to stay lucid and sharp here for Marti and Nico.” Giovanni says in the chat, before calling Martino.  
“Listen. I’ll be quick: show up at school, because we can’t do much over the phone. I know you probably want to send out a search party for Niccolò rather that sit behind a desk for so long, but you have to trust that he knows how to take care of himself and that, like any of us, simply needs a couple of hours to cool down. It’s not like you killed someone, come on…” 

“Yeah, but… what if he doesn’t forgive me?” He forgave him so many times, ever since that morning in the boys’ restrooms, what if this is his breaking point?  
“Then it’s _**his**_ problem for holding you up to impossible standards, man, not yours. Don’t even try to fight me on that. You’re my best friend, Marti, and I won’t allow anyone to talk shit about you. Not even yourself.”   
“I’m far…”   
“… from perfect? Who isn’t? And don’t say Niccolò. Nope, I hate to break it to you, but he’s got some major flaws too. And so do I, and so do you, Eva, Sofia, and anyone out there. Trust me: I will always call you out when you’ve got your head so far up your ass that you forgot how sunlight feels like, but THIS is not the case. Don’t make me come over and drag you all the way to 5B’s door.” Martino is aware that it’s just an empty threat, that Giovanni would hardly ever pressure him into anything, and yet he sighs and promises he is going to be there for nine o’clock.   
Perhaps, if he gets out, Niccolò will feel like it’s safe to come back… 

**To Nico:** Leaving for school, now. Hope I’ll get to see you, later.

It takes him the whole ride to school to decide that no surprise is worth having Ni thinking he doesn’t hold dear that 11th of October, that the day he felt an immediate and unprecedented connection to a nameless boy, could ever be insignificant.

**To Nico:** Can’t wait for you to hear what I’ve got in store for tomorrow <3 … And not just for the night ;)

 

As he expected, Nico doesn’t get back to him.   
It’s fine. He can wait.

*************************************************

Alright: he might have overestimated his patience. He doesn’t know how much longer he can take, before he leaves no stone in Rome unturned while looking for Niccolò.

Thankfully, he’s got a plan to stick to. Sana’s. Who will most likely make him regret the day he was born, if he steps out of line. It’s not ideal, as it relies on too many factors – Nico having his phone on, reading his text messages, being in a place where he can listen to Radio Osvaldo – but it’s the best they’ve got. 

“Well, thank you, Ivano... Sharing with us how it’s life with a bipolar disorder must have been hard, but I’m sure that many of our listeners found comfort listening to how you got your happy ending with Sax… To some of us things look so bleak we don’t even see the point of anything, but your story goes to show that it does get better, when you start building bridges instead of burning them.   
And Martino, you must be so proud of our special guest today. A woman who was brave enough to come and talk to all of us about she is dealing with her depression. Unfortunately she had to leave early, but thank Teresa on our behalf.   
We hoped to have a former student of this school to conclude this special feature on Mental Health Day, as they are dealing with one of the most stigmatized illnesses… Unfortunately they couldn’t join us. If you are listening, however, remember that we’re here for you. All of us.”

“I am. My mom truly is the best. Yeah, I can hear you all groan, but that’s a fact. It took me ages to see it, so maybe you should cut your parents some slack as well. Unless they’re abusive jerks, of course. And I couldn’t be prouder of that person you just mentioned as well. They keep on being strong, kind, and compassionate in a world that constantly tries to tear them down… They- ”

“Martino, if you keep on going like that you might just as well say their name.” Sana warns him, shooting him a reproachful glare. Too bad she can’t stop him. He just realized how he can make Nico understand he treasures every second they spend together. The best and the worst.

“They are who I want to spend my life with: Niccolò Fares, will you marry me?”

“YES!!” The door barges open, he’s swept off the seat and carried to the nearest secluded corner. What the fuck?   
He’s not complaining, but really: what the fuck has just happened?

**************************************************

They would later agree that the marriage is not going to happen for another couple of years, that a proper and more romantic proposal is order from them both… and Martino finds out that while he was busy with Sana, ‘contrabbandieri’ and ‘matte’ joined forces to delve into Nico’s past.   
So that they could call Niccolò’s old friends to the rescue.   
Together they managed to locate Nico and then Gio – of course it was him: the love wizard - and Michi talked some sense into him.

“So, tell me… What exactly have you got planned?” He sounds a bit hesitant, now that the euphoria of the impromptu proposal has worn off.

“I was thinking about a tutorial on how to grow weed in your closet. Followed by a cooking show hosted by the famous chef Niccolò Fares, a ten step guide to on how to break in a deserted pool, a top five on the most romantic spots in Rome… Can’t quite decide who’s gonna get the first place, the bins had their charm but so did the toilets…” 

“… well, it can’t be a fair ranking until you’ve seen my favorite spot. Come on, Marti. Keats and Shelley are waiting for us!”

“Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to dedicate this to Ibisco and GiuliaMed  
> The first, with her wonderful story (Resilience: go and read it if you understand Italian, it's so good <3 ) reminded me what a great group of friends our boys have… And as you can read [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17475026/chapters/42215750) ) I am a sucker for the boy squad taking care of Nico, so… Another reminder that THEY - both Nico AND Marti - are not alone was due ;) !  
> And Anne… wow, what an insight on Marti's deep rooted insecurities in "try and evolve"! I mention them here but it's all thanks to amazing fic for making me realize how Marti might see Niccolò!


End file.
